


Valkyrie

by smoothbrownrectangles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 09:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11711802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoothbrownrectangles/pseuds/smoothbrownrectangles
Summary: After a string of monsters end up dead with mysterious wounds, Sam and Dean set out to find whoever--or whatever--could be responsible. The guilty party may deliver dead monsters, but it could point to an even worse fate for humans. (Post season 10 finale)





	Valkyrie

**Author's Note:**

> Not really looking for criticism; just doing this for fun. Criticism is still welcome, as long as it is constructive. Enjoy!

This job seems simple enough.

A werewolf outside Tulsa is having a little too much fun with the resident homeless population. One too many poorly-hidden bodies leads Sam and Dean to the home of the local pastor. The boys show up, armed to the teeth with silver, but wouldn’t you know it, the good father is already dead. Stabbed.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters under his breath.

“C’mon, Dean. The monster is dead. Take the win.” Sam was always too logical for Dean’s taste.

“I know, I know. But this case was ours. I’m fine with collaborating, but damn it, I need to know if another hunter wants to take point. You can’t just jump in to somebody else’s case like that. It’s rude.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but admits he has a point. Dean heads back to the Impala, but something catches Sam’s eye. The pastor. He was stabbed clean through his sternum, with an exit wound that severed his spine. That would require a huge blade and a lot of force. Dean fails to see the significance, and tries to usher Sam along. But Sam’s not finished. There’s no blood. Both entry and exit wounds are cauterized at the edges. By now, Dean is too impatient to care, so Sam gives up and they drive home, admittedly disappointed.

Another job comes up just days later, and Dean is eager for a good hunt. This one sounds like a ghoul up in Michigan. The boys track it to a mausoleum of half-eaten stiffs, and the sonofabitch is right there in the pile of bodies, sliced in half at the middle. Ghouls can only be killed by decapitation.

Sam takes a look at the ghoul’s wounds. No blood. Just like the werewolf. The edges are clean and cauterized.

“What the hell?” says Dean.

“I…don’t know,” answers Sam.

“No seriously, what the hell is going on? First Tulsa, and now this? What, did some hunter get their hands on a flaming, ghoul-and-werewolf killing sword?” Dean tries not to raise his voice, but he can’t help it. Something weird is going on, and he doesn’t like weird.

“Good question,” ponders Sam. “Maybe the Men of Letters would know.”

Back at the bunker, Sam digs into the lore. The Men of Letters kept a section of their archive dedicated to supernatural weaponry, so he decides that’s a good place to start. Even if they do find the weapon, that doesn’t tell them who is on the other end of it. Meanwhile, Dean dives into his contact list. Not a single hunter in the States knows of anyone with a weapon that can do all that. But there’s more. Other hunters are reporting the same things: monster bodies found with burned wounds that don’t match up with how they ought to be killed. Nobody’s complaining that it’s making their jobs easier, but it’s real damn suspicious. Dean even goes so far as to contact Cas and Crowley to see if Heaven or Hell is behind it. He comes up empty.

Finally, after days of research and still more monsters turning up dead, Sam finds something in the archives. The Letters have a record of a sword that burns with white fire which, according to the lore, can kill anything. But there isn’t just one of these swords; there’s actually forty. Each one is the chosen weapon of the forty Valkyries.

“Valkyrie?” says Dean. “Isn’t that a Tom Cruise movie? Not that I would know that,” he quickly adds.

“Sure you wouldn’t,” Sam says offhandedly. “Valkyries are actually demigods in Norse mythology. They’re sometimes called ‘choosers of the slain’. They function similarly to reapers: they take the souls of warriors killed on the battlefield to Valhalla, where they fight, feast, and fornicate for all eternity.”

“I’m liking this case already,” Dean grins.

“They have wings, like angels,” Sam continues, “which means they can teleport. That would explain how she’s been getting around so easily.”

“She?” repeats Dean.

“Yeah. Valkyries are female warriors. They serve Freya, the Goddess of love and war, and queen of the Valkyries. They kill on her command and are willing to die for her.”

“An army of pissed-off demigod ladies? Sounds like good times,” Dean snarks.

“Actually, I think we’re dealing with only one. Valkyries aren’t exactly stealthy. They tend to charge into battle making a lot of noise to intimidate the enemy, sometimes while riding winged horses. They’re not really known for subtlety. This one is flying under the radar. I think we have a lone Valkyrie gone rogue.”

“Rogue?” says Dean. “Well that’s never good.”

“I don’t know, Dean. She’s killing monsters, not people. Maybe she’s on our side.”

“A superpowered creature with a kill-anything weapon on our side? Right, because that happens so often,” Dean snaps. “Think about it, Sammy. Why’s she doing this? It can’t be to help out us humans, because why would she keep it a secret? Why wouldn’t she show herself? No, she’s just killing for the sake of the kill. And soon, monsters won’t be enough. What’s to stop her from stepping up her game? What’s to stop her from going after humans?”

Sam clenches his jaw. Dean is right. “Nothing. Nothing can stop her if she’s determined enough. She’s a demigod.”

“Awesome,” Dean says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can they be killed?”

Sam nods. “Mistletoe and a Nordic blessing.”

“Well at least we’ve got that going for us. So what, is there a way to summon her here, or…?”

“Well, she’s kept up a pretty consistent pattern so far. I say we just wait. She’ll turn up.”

It only takes a day for another call to come in. Some vamps have set up shop in a small town near Lawrence, close to home. The boys pack up their mistletoe stakes and drive off.

These vamps are sloppy, and it’s easy to track them to an abandoned farmhouse on the edge of town. The boys pull up and can immediately hear the cries of a massacre inside. They rush in, but the vamps are all dead and strewn about the floor. Standing among the bodies, is the Valkyrie.

She’s decked out from head to toe in red and silver battle armor, like a Japanese robot. Her visor is sculpted with a snarling dragon face; her gauntlets end in long metal claws; a black cape billows behind her; and a pair of spiral horns curve over the back of her helmet. In her hand is a sword, burning with white fire.

In the span of a blink, she disappears before their eyes.

The boys hurry back to the Impala and drive home as fast as they can, tires squealing.

“Crap!” spits Dean. “Crap, crap, crap!”

“This is bad, Dean.”

“Oh thanks, I didn’t realize that!”

“She knows we’re after her now, she’ll be expecting us.”

“Or she’ll cut out the middle man and just come straight for us.”

“She’s capable of killing anything and anyone she wants, Dean. And now she knows we’re onto her. What do we do?”

Dean racks his brain as the speedometer climbs. “First thing’s first, let’s get back to the bunker where it’s safe. Then we’ll summon her queen, this…Freya, and make her call the damn thing off. Think the Men of Letters knew how to summon a Viking goddess?”

“Probably.”

“Good. You work on that and I’ll figure out a better way to kill it that doesn’t involve these dinky little twigs.” He takes a brittle mistletoe stake from his pocket and tosses it over his shoulder into the back seat.

They barely make it into the war room when lights begin shattering all around the bunker. Electricity arcs over the control panels, and emergency lights blink in the dimness. Standing atop the table is the Valkyrie, dragon face snarling, flaming sword burning bright.

Sam and Dean draw their guns, silently cursing themselves for leaving their stakes in the car, and both wondering by what miracle she managed to get in. But there’s no time to contemplate how screwed they are.

Strangely, the Valkyrie doesn’t attack. When the lights stop sparking, she actually sheathes her sword. Sam contemplates lowering his gun, but Dean doesn’t, not for one second.

Then she removes her helmet.

And for a moment, both brothers pause at sight of a face they’d nearly forgotten, with blazing red hair and a warm, gentle smile. Then a familiar voice speaks:

“What’s up, bitches?”


End file.
